


to be a prince

by stardazed_daydreams



Series: nameless [6]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Human, Amnesia, Dark Creativity | Remus Sanders m, Fae Logic | Logan Sanders, Fae Morality | Patton Sanders, Human Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Human Creativity | Roman “Princey” Sanders, Human Sleep | Remy Sanders, M/M, POV Creativity | Roman “Princey” Sanders, Repressed Memories, uhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-23 19:54:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20895215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardazed_daydreams/pseuds/stardazed_daydreams
Summary: Roman...He doesn’t know.





	to be a prince

The house is deceptively large.

Virgil leads Roman down a hall. “Bathroom,” He says, pointing, “closet,” another point, “Remy and Emile’s room.” 

“Remy and Emile?” Roman asks, frowning. 

“My uncles,” Virgil says. 

“Oh,” Roman says. 

“We have a spare bedroom,” Virgil says, “or, if you want, there’s room on the loft.” 

They walk back out of the hall. 

Roman looks from the closed door to the loft. 

Something seems  _ right _ about being up.

“Uh- do you mind if I-”

“Not at all,” Virgil says smoothly. His emerald eye glitters like he’d expected that all along. 

Roman shivers. 

“I don’t know much about you,” Virgil says, “but if Patton likes you, that’s good enough for me.”

“Wait,” Roman says, twisting, “where’d Patton go?”

“Home,” Virgil says simply. 

“Where?” Roman repeats. 

“ _ Home, _ ” Virgil repeats firmly.

For a moment, it’s like the world tips over- Roman’s head spins and he feels with  _ absolute certainty  _ that he needs to find Patton. His hand twitches towards his hip and all of his senses are heightened. 

The feeling dissipates, and Roman just frowns. 

“I didn’t see him leave,” he says. 

Virgil shrugs. “You’re a little out of it,” he says. “I’m sure you’ll feel better after some sleep.” 

Roman blinks at him. He’s right; Roman feels frazzled, like he’s been awake for days with nothing to eat or drink. 

He feels like he’s reached the end of his rope. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. 

“After you,” Virgil says, gesturing up the ladder. 

Roman climbs. 

He hauls himself up easily. 

It’s tall enough up here for him to stand (barely), but there’s not too much space- there’s a couple of mattresses on the floor, piled high with blankets and pillows, and a few other things; a bean bag chair, a dresser, and tacked up on one of the walls, a mirror. 

Roman catches a glimpse of himself and startles- his hair is disheveled and dirty, face covered in scratches. Tear marks streak through the grime on his cheeks. 

_ You look like  _ _ him _ _ , _ something in his mind sneers. He tries to grasp at it, but the thought shivers and dies.

He keeps walking.

“I normally take the one on the left,” Virgil says. He’s fidgeting, gaze darting around the room. 

It’s the least cool Roman has seen him. 

“Okay,” he says. “I can take the one on the right.” 

Virgil looks relieved. “Thanks,” he says. 

Roman nods. “Of course.” 

Virgil’s face turns pink. “You won’t fit in any of my clothes,” he says. “We can go shopping tomorrow, but you won’t have anything to sleep in tonight. Unless you want to take something from one of my uncles… Remy might have something that’ll fit.” 

“That’s fine,” Roman rushes. “I can sleep in my clothes.” 

“Do you want to shower, or-”

“Yes.”

* * *

Two minutes later, he is standing under the freezing cold spray of Virgil’s shower with no idea how to make it warmer. Both ways only seem to make it colder. 

Roman resigns himself to his fate and sets about finding the soap. 

By the time he climbs out, his teeth are chattering noisily. He towels off, gets back into his dirty clothes with a wince, and climbs back into the loft. 

Virgil is sitting on the bean bag chair, wearing large headphones and fiddling with something in his hands. His eyes are closed, and his lips move silently. 

Roman stares too long. 

Virgil’s eyes pop open and he takes off the headphones. “Sorry,” he says. 

Roman isn’t sure why  _ he’s  _ apologising, but he accepts it anyway. 

The front door swings open, breaking the moment.

“Virgil, honey? We’re home!” 

Virgil leaps to his feet and rushes over to the edge of the loft, leaning over the railing. “Up here!”

The man at the door tilts his head to smile up at Virgil. “Hey,” he says. He is wearing sunglasses, but Roman feels his gaze shift to him. “And hello to you, too.” He steps into the house, holding open the door while sipping from the cup in his hand. 

Another man steps in, this one much shorter and with bubblegum pink hair. “Hey, Virge! Who’s your friend?” 

Roman assumes this is Remy and Emile. 

He waves. The one with the sunglasses waves back, pushing closed the door. 

“Um, this is Roman,” Virgil says. “He, uh, needs a place to stay.” 

“Oh my gosh,” the pink-haired man says, sympathy painting his face. “Is everything okay?”

Roman shrugs. “I don’t remember,” he says.  _ Honesty is the best policy, _ he thinks, but he can’t figure out why. 

Virgil seems to have a silent conversation with his uncle with only his eyes. 

“Okay,” he says finally with a wide smile. “Nice to meet you, Roman. I’m Emile. Why don’t you boys come down for dinner?”

Dinner is incredibly awkward. 

Everyone seems to know something that Roman doesn’t- Virgil, Emile, and Remy exchange meaningful glances every three seconds (at least, Roman  _ thinks _ Remy is participating; he still hasn’t taken off the sunglasses). 

“So,” Emile asks, “what happened?”

Virgil recounts the story, and Roman nods along, occasionally filling his mouth with chicken or potatoes to keep himself from being expected to talk. 

Remy and Emile hold hands over the table. Emile’s knuckles are white, and Remy rubs his thumb along them. 

“Well, you’re in luck, Roman,” Emile says with a tense smile. “I’m a doctor- a therapist. Repressed memories are what I do.” 

He and Virgil exchange another significant  _ look _ . 

Roman stabs his chicken with a little too much force, and it clanks loudly against his plate. 

“How about you go with Virgil tomorrow?” Remy asks. “He likes to walk into the forest. Maybe it’ll help.” 

“Sure,” Roman says. 

Virgil glares at him with enough venom that Roman actually recoils a little. 

They spend the rest of dinner listening to Emile happily chatter away about this or that. 

Roman pokes at his food and keeps his head down.   


* * *

Virgil shakes him awake with a hand on his shoulder. His grip is like iron, and his hand is ice cold. 

“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” he says as Roman blinks blearily at him, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Time to go.” 

Roman squints at him. “I’m not sure if that was supposed to be an insult,” he says, “but the jokes’ on you, I like disney.” 

Virgil raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

Roman hesitates. The thought came easily so close to sleep, something familiar. “I guess so,” he says. 

“Me, too,” Virgil says. 

“Really? You?” Roman asks. 

“What, are you stereotyping me?” Virgil asks. Roman can’t tell if he’s joking. “Come on, get up. Emile got you a spare toothbrush.” 

Roman sits up. “Why do you live with your uncles?” he asks. “You know, instead of your parents?”

Virgil’s shoulders tense, and he sets his jaw. “Get up,” he says again, and then he climbs down the ladder. 

Roman frowns at him and follows. 

A few minutes and a bowl of cereal later, they’re heading out the back door. 

Patton is waiting for them, leaning his arm against a section of the fence with a towel thrown over it. He smiles brightly at the sight of them. “Good morning,” he says. 

“Morning, Pat,” Virgil says. “You coming with?”

“Sure thing, kiddo,” Patton says, his smile never wavering. 

“Cool,” Virgil says. He pushes open the gate, and beckons for Roman to follow. 

Roman obeys somewhat hesitantly, following him out of the backyard and towards the treeline. 

He knew, objectively, that they were walking in the woods for a reason that hadn’t been explained to him, but it was one thing to  _ talk _ about following a stranger into the woods and another thing to actually  _ do _ it. 

(Although, everyone is a stranger, Roman supposes, so if he distanced himself from them, he'd just be alone.)

“Come on,” Virgil says. 

Roman hadn’t realized that he’d stopped; he starts walking again, unease skittering up his spine. 

As they walk deeper into the woods, the unease grows- Virgil picks his way through the trees with all the ease of someone well-acquainted with the forest, and it pangs something familiar in Roman’s chest.

A gust of wind blows through the trees, sending dead leaves and something deep within him swirling-  _ remember, _ it whispers.  _ Remember. _

Something rises to the tip of his tongue- a name. His mouth traces its shape. 

“Here,” Virgil says, and it dissolves on his tongue. 

Roman looks around. They have stopped in the middle of the forest. There is no indication that there is anything special about this place; the trees all look the same for miles. 

“Lo?” Virgil tilts his head back, looking up at the leaves. 

Nothing greets him but the whistling of the wind. 

Virgil smiles anyway, slow and wide. “Hey, Lo,” he says. “I know I don’t normally bring anyone, but-” he pauses. “Well, I wanted you to meet Roman. We think he’s been Charmed.” 

Roman frowns at Virgil- this is news to  _ him _ . 

The leaves rustle, and someone drops out of the tree.

Roman’s jaw hits the ground. 

The boy is tall, at least 6’5, and elegant- his hair is dark and carefully slicked back, and his silver eyes gleam intelligently at Roman from dark frames. He straightens his tie, which is blue and striped, and smooths a stray leaf from his dark jeans. 

“Where did you come from?” Roman blurts.

The boy- he couldn’t have been more than 17- frowns, adjusting his glasses. “The tree,” he says. “You saw.” The movement of his arm brings attention to the blue and black bracelet on his wrist, similar to Virgil and Patton’s. 

“I know this is going to sound crazy,” Virgil says. “But I have to tell you something.”

The unease comes back full force. Roman takes a half-step back, bracing himself against a tree. “What?” He asks, trying for casual. His voice trembles. 

“Patton and Lo…” Virgil swallows, looking to Lo. Lo nods, and he looks back at Roman. “They’re… fae. Fairies.”

_ Fae _ . 

The word sends a million thoughts racing through Roman’s mind, none of which he can decipher. He is suddenly glad that he isn’t standing, because the world tilts dangerously as fear and guilt battle for a hold on his heart.

_ Fairies. _

“Remus,” Roman whispers.

Virgil frowns. “What?”

“Fae,” Roman says. “Like… real actual fairies.” 

In retrospect, it makes sense; disappearing instruments, pointed ears, too-sharp teeth… the way Lo had jumped from the tree, not there one moment, solidly present the next. 

“I thought the people of Wickhillis were aware of the presence of fae,” Lo says. 

“They are,” Virgil responds. “He can’t remember… well, anything.”

“You think he’s been Charmed?”

“Patton found him unconscious in a clearing,” Virgil says. 

“Ah.” 

Roman puts his hands up. “Woah, woah, woah. Is anyone going to explain to me what ‘charmed’ means?” 

“You may have angered a fae, causing them to erase your memories,” Lo explains. “Although why they wouldn’t just  _ kill _ you…” 

“ _ Kill  _ me? What could I have done to make a fae want to  _ kill _ me?” Even as he says it, the hair on the back of his neck stands up- Roman feels, inexplicably, as if they’re grilling him. 

“It really doesn’t take much,” Lo says. 

“Charming is a seelie-specific thing,” Patton breaks in, speaking for the first time since they’d arrived. “Seelie don’t tend to kill people.”

“Because they get  _ attached _ ,” Lo says with something like disgust. 

Patton and Lo stare at each other for a long time, tension rising to the point of uncomfortable silence. 

Roman wonders if Logan knows that he sounds like a giant hypocrite. 

The silence stretches too long. 

“What’s a seelie?” Roman asks. 

Everyone looks at him. 

Lo pinches the bridge of his nose. “There are two main courts of fae,” he says, “and four smaller ones. ‘Seelie’ refers to the main court that covers the Spring and Summer courts. ‘Unseelie’ is the court that covers the Autumn and Winter courts.” 

“What court are you?” Roman asks. 

“Unseelie,” Lo says. “Autumn.” 

“Spring!” Patton says without prompting, twirling a little in place. 

Lo rolls his eyes, adjusting his glasses. 

“So you think I’m cursed,” Roman says. 

“Charmed,” Lo and Patton correct in unison. They glare at each other. 

Roman frowns. “Same thing.”

“It’s really not,” Lo says. 

Roman crosses his arms, feeling patronized. “Whatever,” he grumbles. “Is this what I came out here for?”

Virgil looks at him for a long time, long enough for his irritation to fade into the barest hint of fear. “Yes,” he says. 

“I am not sure why you thought bringing him to me would be beneficial,” Lo says. 

“I thought you might be able to figure out… you know, what the fae  _ did _ ,” Virgil says. 

“I am not a seelie,” Lo responds. “I cannot help much on this front, other than to confirm your suspicions.”

“Well, can you?” Virgil asks. “Confirm them?”

Lo frowns at Roman, considering. “Hold still,” he says. 

“Wai-” Lo reaches forward and presses two fingers to Roman’s forehead, and for a moment, everything is weightless and dark. Terror claws his ribcage and seizes his throat.

“Let me  _ go, _ fae,” Roman snarls in a voice not-quite his own. 

Lo takes his hand back, and Roman falls back into himself dizzyingly fast. 

“Yes,” Lo says, “he has been Charmed.” 

Roman’s stomach lurches, and he presses a hand over his mouth to keep himself from throwing up.

“What was that?” Virgil asks.

“I came into contact with the Roman with all of his memories,” Lo says. “The ‘real’ Roman, one might say. He didn’t like it much.” 

Roman breathes slowly. He doesn’t like that idea, the notion that there is a ‘real’ Roman hiding behind a spell. 

Virgil considers Roman for a moment. “Well. Now we know,” he says. “I’m not sure how to help you, though.” 

“I could… socialize,” Lo says, looking rather like he’d taken a bite out of a lemon. “Use my status as an excuse to find out if anyone has come in contact with a human lately.”

“Thank you,” Virgil says.

“I can help, too,” Patton says. “I  _ am _ Seelie. Maybe I can unravel the Charm.” 

Lo scoffs under his breath, rolling his eyes again. 

Virgil shoots him a  _ look _ , and Lo sighs.

“Thank you, Patton,” he says. Virgil smiles and Patton mutters “you’re welcome.” 

“Now,” Virgil says, “let’s get you something to wear.” 

Lo nods, and _ springs _ back up into the tree, gone in a flash. 

Patton waves a little, and steps back into a patch of sunlight. 

He vanishes. 

“That’s how he does it,” Roman says. 

“Let’s go,” Virgil says. 

They walk out of the woods.  
  



End file.
